Dislocations and Stitches
by Enkidu07
Summary: A collection of Dean!hurts. Ch 11: A little bit of Dean!whump with a side of Frustrated!Sam
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Dislocated

**Author**: Enkidu07

**Disclaimer**: Not mine

**Challenge Word**: "Broken"

**Players**: Mad Server, Onyx Moonbeam, IheartSam7, Orange Autumn, NC Girl, Nana56, Muffy Morrigan, mahtalie, SupernaturalSammy67, SherryDarling, TCB 0.5, Twinchaosblade, PADavis, InSecret, deangirl1, Supernoodle, Vanessa Sgroi and Moonlight80.

--

"Aughhaha."

"Sammy?"

"I shut my finger in the fucking door."

"Broken?" Dean closes the gap.

"Don't know. Get away."

Dean bodily takes Sam's hand, his grip gentler than his movements. He swivels, capturing Sam's injured arm with his own. Sam's tenses, breath temporarily suspended.

Dean glances back with a wry grin, "Ahhh, Samantha, it looks like you broke a nail."

Sam smirks, then yelps as Dean pops his finger back into place in one smooth motion.

He stumbles slightly as Dean abruptly lets go, his breath already returning.

"Son of a bitch."

--

end.


	2. Got it

**Title**: Got it.  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Challenge Word**: Twitch  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.  
**A/N**: So. I've decided to collect all of my dislocation pieces together. You know - all 2 of them. Because I feel that if I had a nice place to keep them, there could be more. *nods*

--

"Dean, stay down."

Sparkly lights flit in front of Dean's eyes, explosions dance through his chest.

Branches break, leaves rustle, a body thuds to the ground nearby.

Dean twitches, prone, dirt slowly coming into focus. Ants march steadfastly across his field of vision. He flinches as Sam's exterminating knee comes down, invading his bubble.

Sam's hands land solid on his shoulder blade, grip his bicep.

"Breathe."

Reflexive breath, then suffocation as Sam assertively maneuvers his shoulder into place.

He shimmies away, pushes his face to the dirt, chest muscles cramping.

Sam whispers behind him, quiet and calming, "I got it."

--

end.


	3. Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

**Title**: Horseshoes and Hand Grenades**  
Author**: Enkidu07**  
Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.**  
Challenge Word**: green, space, jaw, & tense. (I got a little behind...)**  
A/N**: Two 100-word drabbles. Same scene, first from Dean's POV and then Sam's. In first person. Which I have never done before. And I am not sure why I am doing it now. It just came out that way. And I am all for trying new things.

Dean's POV

--

My evasive tactics meant a glancing blow rather than a TKO.

Regardless, my jaw exploded.

"You okay?" Sam.

_Damn thing broke my jaw._

"Let me see."

_Hell no._

"Dean." Sam's fingertips were pricking pressure along the bone. "Check your teeth."

_Huh-uh._

Sam looked ready to pry my jaw apart and let his fingers do the walking.

Tentative tongue along the ridges. Then more confident. Teeth intact.

"Dislocated?" Sam's fingers on the joint. "Open and close."

_I'll pass, thanks._

"Dean."

Aching tension. Sam in my space.

"It's already turning purple... and green. But I think you got lucky."

"Get me up."

--

Second verse... same as the first. Sam's POV

--

"Dean. You alright?" Dean's hand hovered over his jaw. He looked stunned. "Broken?" _Damn that would suck_.

Dean tensed when I cupped his face. His hovering hands latched onto my wrists, vice tight.

Green eyes drifted unsteadily.

"Check your teeth."

Subtle shake.

"Dean. Check." _I'll check myself_.

I waited and he relaxed marginally. Good. Teeth intact.

Palpating his joint, Dean paled. And was still silent.

"Dislocated? Open and close." Hooded eyes. "Dean."

Grudging compliance. No unnatural shifting. Just bruising.

He leaned into my space slowly and I caught his weight.

Mumbled words.

"Take it easy. You're okay. Let's go home."


	4. This little piggy stayed home

**Title**: This little piggy**  
Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.  
**Challenge Word**: blanket  
**A/N**: The dislocations continue.

--

"Dean?"

"Shut up."

"Want me to fix it?"

"Sam. Shut. Up."

"Dude, it's turning blue."

Growl. Pathetic hobbling. Dean eases himself onto the bed.

There's a scuffle. "Let me look."

"No."

"Let me look."

"No."

"Let me look."

"Fuck off."

Sam shuffles out of his coat. Watches from afar.

Dean reaches for his foot, rocks back. Reaches again, then flops backward onto the bed.

"Seriously. Let me look."

Dean's head burrows under the covers.

Sam grasps Dean's toe firmly, cups his foot. It's cold, tense. He gives a hard tug. Nods, satisfied. Thumps the blanket. "All better."

Muffled, "Fuffa uff"


	5. Pins and Needles

**Title**: Pins and Needles. Or, more specifically, Fishhooks and Syringes.**  
Author**: Enkidu07**  
Disclaimer**: Everything is fictional**  
Challenge Word**: Weird**  
A/N**: Special edition for Vanessa's birthday! I hope you have an amazing year!  
**A/N2**: This is only inspired by the E/O challenge. I violated the rules and now it's a quintupabble. :)

__

Sam was taking forever preparing. Dean grew impatient and made the mistake of looking.

Fishhook needles were lined up on the sterile sheet on the bedside table, each piece of string threaded at both ends.

"What're you doing?" Dean's voice was pitched a tone higher than normal.

"It's deep, Dean. I'm gonna use a vertical mattress stitch."

"Why? Just do the regular one."

Sam sighed and forced Dean's arm up so he could examine the six-inch laceration spanning high across his ribs are curling under his arm. "Man. It's that or I'm gonna have to throw in a few subcuticular stitches in to make sure it holds. Every time you lift your arm, it'll pull open."

Dean made a face. Sam wouldn't let him put his arm down, so he curled his hand around the back of his head, trying to get comfortable.

"You want a local?"

"Not really. What about the topical cream?"

Sam shook his head, "That's not for broken skin."

"Numbing spray?"

Sam looked empathetic. "Not for this, man."

Sam prepped the hypodermic while Dean was still thinking of an out. Sam had already cleaned the cut but now swabbed a spot practically in Dean's armpit. The tickling sensation bordered on pain.

"Dude, don't stick it there." Dean started to pull away but Sam had his bicep.

"Sorry man, that's where it'll hurt the most. This'll numb it."

Sam was efficient, sliding the needle in while still talking. There was a pinch and then a stinging sensation spiked.

After a second, Sam tossed the needle aside a pressed a cloth back to the wound.

Dean could feel Sam's gaze on him and he forced himself to relax back into the mattress. Sam's hand slipped down to the wrist on his good side. Dean could feel his pulse racing and forced another slow breath. Sam's grip lingered until the sting faded and Dean's side went pleasantly numb.

"You ready?"

Dean nodded and kept his closed his eyes as Sam started.

"You want me to tell you what I'm doing?"

"Just do it, Sam."

Dean let himself subtly grip the bedspread as he felt the pressured bite of the deeper part of each stitch. As he acclimated to the sensation, he forced his eyes open and watched Sam's face.

Sam's eyes flicked to his, assessing. "That hurt?"

"A little. Mostly feels weird."

Sam nodded and went back to concentrating on his work.

Sam was methodical and unhurried in is movements and Dean relaxed as the adrenaline faded. He floated, unfocused, until Sam gently pulled his raised arm down to his side.

"Done?" He asked, unnecessarily.

"Done," Sam answered. "I'm gonna clean you up a little. Go back to sleep."

Dean watched as Sam swiped the blood from his side and then closed his eyes as Sam drug another washcloth across the grime on his face.

"'M good?" He asked, groggily.

"You're good. Go to sleep."

"You good?" Dean asked before letting himself pass out.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Dean nodded. "Awesome."

--

end.


	6. Keep it clean

"Crap."

Sam's head snaps up at Dean's quiet exclamation. "What?"

Dean holds up a finger. "Cut's infected. "

Sam pulls Dean's hand closer to look.

"Don't touch it." Dean barks.

"Gotta soak it."

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls a wrinkled hand from the salt water. Sam efficiently pulls gauze across the wound.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?" Dean's face puckers.

"Need to get the dead skin off. Hold still."

There's a tussle.

When Sam's finished his jeans are soaked and there's water all over the floor, but Dean's finger looks less red. Sam wraps it lightly. "Keep it clean."


	7. Stubbed

**Title**: Stubbed**  
Author**: Enkidu07**  
Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.**  
Challenge Word**: rock**  
A/N**: Dean's had a rough… life?

* * *

Dean froze, head bent low, breath sucking between gritted teeth.

He started swearing before the pain even hit.

Too little sleep.

Too much coffee.

Not enough space.

The iron beams supporting the bed were rock-hard and his toe didn't stand a chance.

He felt the whisper of Sam's fingertips along his spine.

He shuffled back, cracking an eye to check out the damage.

"Dude. Gross. You're… spurting."

In the instant of numbness Dean watched, detached, then clenched a fist as the pain wormed its way through his foot and tattled to his brain.

He let Sam push him to the bed.

* * *

End.


	8. Intangible Comfort

**Title**: Intangible Comfort  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.  
**Challenge**: use a metaphor  
**A/N**: Dean's going to need some stitches.

* * *

"Easy. Just relax. Easy." Dean wondered which of them Sam was reassuring and huffed a laugh. The burning pain that lanced up his side as Sam eased the edges of the wound apart cut the chuckle short. Sam's elbow found his chest, pressed him to the bed. Burning grew to searing and then topped out at agony as Sam's fingers worked inside, checking for internal damage.

Dean gripped tight, couldn't breathe.

Sam finally pulled back, cupped gentle pressure over the wound, and sighed relief. "You're good."

Dean uncoiled, muscles trembling.

When he looked up, Sam's eyes hugged him tight.

"Bitch."

* * *

end.


	9. Once bitten

**Title**: Once bitten  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.  
**Challenge Word**: Cool  
**A/N:** Just a little Dean!whump in the form of a Capra bite. I am picturing it along the side of his torso... you can choose your favorite body part. He's not super cooperative.

* * *

"Cool it, Dean."

"Get off."

"Stop. You're bleeding all over the bed."

"Ow. Easy there, bearclaw."

"Hold still. Move your…unmph. Dean. Move your arm."

"You move."

"You're acting like a child."

"Bite me."

"The Capra bite isn't enough?"

"Sam."

"Lift your arm more. Let me see your back."

"Ow, fuck. Hands off."

"Okay, okay, I'll just look."

"Don't touch."

"Okay. It's superficial, doesn't look that bad."

"Feels bad."

"I know. Gotta clean it."

"Awesome."

"Lay back down. Just. Stay."

"Staying."

"Gonna sting."

"Gnnh."

"You're okay."

"Stop poking."

"Gotta stop the bleeding."

"I'll stop you."

"Almost done."

"Next time, you're bait."

* * *

end


	10. It's my party

**Title**: It's my party (and I'll bleed if I want to)  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me.  
**A/N**: This was going to be my Boston drabble. It is even 100 words. But I am not even sure if they're IN Boston... so:  
**E/O Challenge**: well (turns out when you miss about a million drabbles, there are LOTS of words to choose from...)

* * *

"Stop bleeding already!" Sam realizes it's an absurd demand and bites his lip in frustration, needle dangling uselessly from his fingers.

Dean, already thrumming with adrenaline, takes it personally and pushes up snarling, "I'll do it myself."

"Dean." Sam's contrite. Dean's movements are erratic and more blood wells up, spills over his ribs, rivulets streaming down his belly. Sam places the bloody rag over the cut, stilling Dean's hands.

Dean avoids his gaze, cheeks flushed, stance vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmurs, easing Dean back down.

Dean huffs, body tense.

Sam waits until he catches his eye, "Hold still, jerk."

* * *

end.


	11. Stay Still

**Title**: Stay Still  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters are still not mine.  
**A/N**: Apparently it is a night of self-gratification. I feel like there's one more in me.

* * *

"Stay still," Sam orders, yanking Dean's foot back down the bedspread.

"Stop touching it," Dean snaps back, pushing his whole body up the bed.

Sam palpates the edges of the wound on the bottom of Dean's foot, grip tight. Dean pulls hard, hears the air whoosh out of Sam lungs when his abdomen hits the edge of the mattress.

"Dean," Sam growls, "cut it out. You're getting blood all over the bed." Sam recaptures his injured limb.

"Butterfly strips?" Dean asks hopefully, leg tense, ready to jerk away if necessary.

Sam cocks his head, gives him a look that is either pity or exasperation, then refocuses on his foot. "You've sliced it good but I think the skin is too thick for stitches."

Dean pulls, pushes with his good foot, clips Sam in the chest. "Huh uh. No way. Get off."

"Dean, I said no stitches. I think we need to superglue it."

Dean slumps back onto the bed, feels sweat dripping down his temple. His back is soaked.

"I can glue it but you're gonna have to stay still. Stop fighting me and don't kick me again."

Pain slices up Dean's leg again, he yelps and scrambles back, "What are you doing?"

"It's just alcohol. I'm not sealing the germs _in_. Give me your foot. You're making a mess."

Dean watches the blood tinted alcohol drip on the bed. "That hurt."

"It's a little cut. I have to clean it. Don't move this time. And don't kick me." Sam warns.

Dean grips the covers hard and does not kick the little bastard in the face when he pulls open the wound to clean away any debris.

"Good. I'm gonna dry it next. Don't move."

Dean holds his breath while Sammy blots it dry, relaxes a little when it doesn't really hurt.

"Here's the glue. Stay still." Sam's grip on his foot is tight. There's a little sting and then Sam sits back, hair askew, rubs at his chest. "Done."

"Is it dry?"

"Yeah. Looks okay. Just don't split it open again. Just. Sleep or something."

Dean squirms around and tries to get a look. The sole of his foot is a little red and stained with blood but the cut's no longer seeping and the edges are sealed tight. He lets out a whoosh of air.

"Sleep I can do." He looks up at Sam and grins, "You wanna share my bed? I promise not to kick."

He chuckles when the pillow hits him in the face. His brother is so easy.

* * *

end.


End file.
